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I am too old for 'Alice in Wonderland' but sometimes I wonder about the perfect world for us and for our children. This poem is a reflection of what we all would want to be in that happy-happy world - more love, less crime and of course, truck loads of happiness. That would be the adult version of WONDERLAND.

At times I simply stare into the past and I weave a woolen scarf out of your memories. Snuggling in it, I think, if your memories can keep me warm, what all we two can actually do? Sizzling, no? Now, please don't smile like you always do. It makes me miserable. I feel like a lone leaf in the yard, trembling and shaking within. Wait, woolen reminds me of one thing I kept from you - your own cap, the one you lost in Physics class. I stole it. Actually, not stole, I kept it when you forgot it on your desk and I used to wear it sometimes. I know, you will say, 'Really?', like you always say when you are surprised. Just so you know, I still have it but I don't wear it now. Winter is knocking on your side of the world but here, it's quite cold already. I wake up every morning and wrap my arms around to keep myself warm. But not today, today early morning I saw your recent profile picture on Facebook and I'm not exaggerating, even mercury soared. You looked so hot in t…

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My poetry is not for foreplay. It's for after sex. When you'll light the Marlboro and move to your side of the bed, my poems will be the breath of fresh air in a room filled with smoke. But do not underestimate me. My poems won't be sweet, gentle or mellow. They will be brazen, brutal and bold. I will present them on a sharply-edged knife. The blood on the knife will be hot. Fresh from the wounds I don't allow to heal. You will take a drag from Marlboro - but served with my sinful words - you will feel as if you've snorted cocaine. You will not get high, though. You will see the world in a different light. Murky lanes leading to posh hotels, board rooms and high-rise apartment buildings. In one of those aesthetically decorated rooms, you will see a man f*****g someone's life just for a little pleasure. You will see him getting hard on someone's misery. A woman pleasuring herself while watching a wrecked home that she takes all credit for. To watch someone se…

One morning my 21-year-old boyfriend asked me to bunk college. He was too sad after listening to a ghazal. 'Bunk!' I thought. I would elope with a guy who loves music like this. I even proposed how our life would be - we would pack our clothes in 2 suitcases, he would take his dad's Maruti 800, we would take tuitions to earn money, live in a small one-room-first-floor house somewhere in Himachal on rent, and listen to music till 4 am. 'You idiot, my dad wouldn't care if I am lost, but his car. Let's not take the car,' he said with a straight face. It was decided then and there, we would elope and not take his dad's car in which he lost his virginity. I met him at our favourite spot in Sector 36, Chandigarh. 'Where to?' he asked. 'Anywhere. Just drive,' I said. He turned on the music and drove. The roads were empty. We passed Manimajra. We didn't talk. We listened to the music. That was our bond. We loved the same songs, in the same fa…

I slipped back into my lingerie, But I couldn’t feel your touch. Devoid of any pleasure, I still loved you very much. The cocoon I lived in, Stunted my growth and flight. I was living in a well-lit bungalow, But my happiness never saw any daylight. There were days I was absolutely naked, Still, why didn’t they see my scars? I bet they got blinded, By sparkly diamonds and swanky cars. I smiled all the time, I cracked the best of jokes. I camouflaged pain so meticulously, No one noticed the embers behind the smoke. I burned, I turned into a heap of ash. I sprayed Chanel No. 5, Though I was treated like a can of trash. You knew what wrong you did, Still, you never apologized. All I was a glorified maid, I now realize. Neither your body nor your love, Nothing was ever mine. Yet I treated a dead relation, Like a holy shrine. I’m glad you gave me nothing, Neither on the bed or otherwise. I’m gasping for sanity now, I’d have drowned in the sea of your lies. You took away my youth, My innocence, my peace. You left so many dem…

It was a cold November afternoon. I sat on the floor. With my knees pressed against my breast, arms around my legs, I wept inconsolably. There was no one in the house. I was alone. But I wish you were there. I wish you could see your only accomplishment. Your only legacy -- you ruined someone's life beyond repair. I hugged myself tighter and closed my eyes so tight to squeeze out every last drop tear out of my body.
It was the last day I thought of you as a man. You know why -- it was the last day I doubted myself as a woman.
It's June now, it's cold here in Toronto. Today, months later, I felt like sitting on the cold floor and crying to ease my pain. I did that. I sat on the chair, looked at the steady pile of setbacks, one failure after another, tears rolled down my cheeks. My every effort to build my life comes crashing down week after week. But now, I don't wipe my tears off. You know why -- I don't wear mascara any longer. You not only ruined my life. You to…

Things I've done in the last one year to motivate myself: Started a planner. I write every single thing I do in it. Even if the thing is as petty as paying the credit card bill. Because some days I don't have the mental strength to do even that.Used the stopwatch on my phone to keep track of how many hours I'm active. Even if I cook a meal, I track that too. Because some days I don't have the physical strength to get up from my bed.Self-talk every morning to tell that life is worth living. There are beautiful people who care about me and love me. Because some days I'm terribly lonely and the fear of life-long solitude put me in a dark hole.Post-surgery, I developed breathing issues and I've put on weight. With great effort, I started walking again. I try to walk 8k-10k steps a day now. I track it on Fitbit.These are the practical things I do to keep me up and running. I'm sharing it in a hope this may help someone. Much love,Saru

I rekindled my love for music in October. I'm an insomanic and music is the best company at 2 in the night. I'm alone, heartbroken and at crossroads in life - now imagine the intensity with which I listen to it. But let me brag first - I listen to music with the kind of sincerity and devotion that may surprise you - and I'm very proud of it. If you will give me a song, I will give you an exact scenario which suits it. No, I don't do - this is a shower song, this is a long-drive song thing - that's amateurish. I do - this is a song I would listen when I'm back from a date, removing my makeup, getting ready for the shower, and humming it like an anthem. Believe me, this is the simplest of scenarios I'm presenting here. My descriptions become more vivid, dirtier and fun. Those who have heard my descriptions would smile if they are reading this post. But this post is not about that. This post is about a song which is poetry in every sense of the word. I'm tal…

His 1000-watt smile under the dim light of the car made him sexier than he actually was. His 5 feet 11-inch lethal body, almond-shaped eyes and perfect manners made a posh exterior every girl fell for. But I fell for the animal he was. He was honest with me. And I was real with him.

'I missed you,' he said. 'Did you miss me?' he glanced at me while racing the car on Ambala-Chandigarh highway. 'No. I didn't.' I lied. He pressed the accelerator harder only to stop on a secluded road. It was dark already, but his intentions were darker. 'So,' he said while leaping onto my side. 'You didn't miss me.' I looked straight into his eyes but before any word could come out of my mouth, he was inside it. Then he came on top of me. He kissed my neck and inhaled on it.

'You wear the best of perfumes. You know when I led my troop to that village last week, I was buttoning up my shirt and thought of how you smell. Oh, you make me so hard!' He went…

It was February. It was Friday. It was late at night. I had just emptied half-a-bottle of Blue Label. There was a musk-scented candle burning on the side table. Coke Studio music filled the room and my senses with intrigue. I picked up my phone and started scrolling Instagram randomly. The universe conspired to entrap me in the mystical world of unchaste desires. And I stumbled upon your picture. I froze. Oh-f**k-wow! While my eyes stared at your picture shamelessly, my mind said those words and my body was in a whirlpool of emotions. I've seen men. And I've seen men. You know what I mean. But you - oh man! You were a perfect concoction of handsome features, sublime sensuality and tranquillity dipped in fine scotch. 5 minutes before landing at your picture, I was tipsy. But then I was f*****g drunk on you. You were the magic poets create in words. You were the visual orgasm painters draw on a canvas. You were that risque undertone musicians try to create in a passionate song. You …